M. MERRY. By your leave-- R. ROISTER. What is that? M. MERRY. Your gown was foul spotted with the foot[84] of a gnat. R. ROISTER. Their master to offend they are nothing afeard. What now? M. MERRY. A lousy hair from your mastership's beard. And sir, for nurse's sake, pardon this one offence. OMNES FAMULÆ. We shall not after this show the like negligence. R. ROISTER. I pardon you this once; and, come, sing ne'er the worse. M. MERRY. How like you the goodness of this gentleman, nurse? M. MUMBL. God save his mastership, that can so his men forgive! And I will hear them sing, ere I go, by his leave. R. ROISTER. Marry, and thou shalt, wench: come, we two will dance. M. MUMBL. Nay, I will by mine own self foot the song perchance. R. ROISTER. Go it, sirs, lustily. [_Retires to write a letter._ M. MUMBL. Pipe up a merry note. Let me hear it played, I will foot it for a groat. [_Cantent._[85] R. ROISTER. Now, nurse, take this same letter here to thy mistress; And as my trust is in thee, ply my business. M. MUMBL. It shall be done. M. MERRY. Who made it? R. ROISTER. I wrote it each whit. M. MERRY. Then needs it no mending? R. ROISTER. No, no. M. MERRY. No, I know your wit. R. ROISTER. I warrant it well. M. MUMBL. It shall be delivered; But, if ye speed, shall I be considered? M. MERRY. Whough! dost thou doubt of that? M. MUMBL. What shall I have? M. MERRY. An hundred times more than thou canst devise to crave. M. MUMBL. Shall I have some new gear, for my old is all spent? M. MERRY. The worst kitchen wench shall go in ladies' raiment. M. MUMBL. Yea? M. MERRY. And the worst drudge in the house shall go better Than your mistress doth now. M. MUMBL. Then I trudge with your letter. R. ROISTER. Now may I repose me: Custance is mine own. Let us sing and play homeward, that it may be known. M. MERRY. But are you sure that your letter is well enough? R. ROISTER. I wrote it myself. M. MERRY. Then sing we to dinner. [_Here they sing, and go out singing._ ACTUS I., SCÆNA 5. CHRISTIAN CUSTANCE, MARGERY MUMBLECRUST. C. CUSTANCE. Who took thee this letter, Margery Mumblecrust? M. MUMBL. A lusty gay bachelor took it me of trust, And if ye seek to him, he will love your doing. C. CUSTANCE. Yea, but where learned he that manner of wooing? M. MUMBL. If to sue to him you will any pains take, He will have you to his wife (he saith) for my sake. C. CUSTANCE. Some wise gentleman belike: I am bespoken. And I thought verily this had been some token From my dear spouse,[86] Gawin Goodluck, whom when him please, God luckily send home to both our hearts' ease!